She was admirable, at best. Though he wasn't quite sure what to make of her. Any man's knees would weaken at the sight of a youth such as herself. It was not often that one could cross a woman at the time who could easily make a man glance twice upon her during her every day commute to her hobbies. He would know; he had an eternity of courtships following him. Something none of the wretched men that walked the streets of Anvil could relate to.
One by one, the Madgod reflected upon his former lovers. Each and every one possessing unique qualities chosen by him and him alone. He had a habit of courting the most beautiful of women; admiring them from afar and soon after approaching them at a time he considered them most vulnerable. They would notice him. He seldom wore a disguise, only clothing that better suit the area he occupied during his brief trips away from his realm. Though his face still bore unique features. Features fit for a prince. Once caught by their eye, he would notice the transition from casual to aware. Aware that there was a possibility that both parties could walk away with a benefit. They would walk toward him. Their eyes sparkle, expecting a smile fit to charm them. The Madgod would only too happily oblige. He would then speak only enough sentences to steal them away to his realm and provide for them enough gifts and favors to last them years of happiness. They grew old, however. Not in physical appearance so much as they grew tiresome to the Madgod. He would crave something new. Something exciting. Something unlike what he was experiencing. That woman, whoever she had been, would be cast from the realm- doomed to live out the rest of her existence picking up from the life she had left behind.
This occurrence would repeat itself throughout hundreds of years. Many a beautiful woman would fall prey to the Madgod only to be cast away like a dirty dish rag. The Madgod could only move forward. He would hope these women the best and continue on living out his silly existence. It was almost humorous that this thought crossed his mind shortly after gazing upon this Dunmer beauty. He hadn't reflected upon his promiscuous past in years. In fact, it hadn't even occurred to him that other women had once caught his eye before this magnificent creature. His attraction to her drew him in like a fish on a hook. He was determined to win her over. His quick wit and charm played back in his head as he adjusted his clothing and hair. He was almost positive that he looked every bit as handsome as always; though surely this time around the Madgod's self esteem was surely lacking. Where he once saw himself as quite the handsome fellow, he began to doubt his appearance in comparison to his infatuation. What a strange thought, a Daedric prince doubting his appearance! It was almost unheard of, really. Who would think that somebody who had been granted the power over their own realm, creatures, followers, and cosmic power would stress such a tiny detail such as physical attractiveness in the eyes of a singular female? Surely the Madgod had gone, well, mad.

And while he was busy detailing himself in every way possible in order to reach perfection; the Dunmer lass was casually strolling throughout the town of Anvil. He had spotted her from behind a broken gate that once protected the entrance to a walkway that wound a little ways to an abandoned home in the center of the town. The Madgod was simply strolling through Anvil, admiring the sea mist that carried over from the dock. His goal in visiting Anvil that week was to study and admire trade by ship. The Madgod had little to no need to worry about trade in his realm. Any resource needed by his people was already available to them. It was up to the residents of the Isles to utilize these supplies and strictly not up to the Madgod to concern himself with devising trade routes or trade alliances between Bliss and Crucible. He was fascinated by the idea of such a thing, however. And it was all the more interesting to eavesdrop on the ruthless pirates and silly sailors that stumbled drunkenly around the docks from time to time, singing songs and telling tales. The Madgod could find hours of entertainment in just one afternoon off the coast of Anvil. He also enjoyed watching the fire in the light house burn. After asking around and drawing context clues, he learned that the light house guided the ships to the dock at night. This seemed quite an ineffective way to herd ships, in the Madgod's mind. Why not simply create an instrument such as a compass to guide them back. Are they really dense enough to not see the faint lights of the town beyond the waves?
As harsh as his criticism regarding the light house was; the Madgod appreciated its uniqueness and charm. It definitely added to the beauty of Anvil. Though it certainly wasn't nearly as gorgeous as the Dunmer.
When she first caught his eye he stumbled backward. Taken aback by what his eyes were taking in. She was a sight that he had never witnessed before in the thousands of years that made up his existence. He ducked behind a pillar holding up the right wing of the Mage's guild, hoping she would not see him and suspect him of watching her. She was dressed in a teal blue robe. She wore her hood down, and from the looks of it her feet were covered by tan doeskin shoes. She looked as if she were a simple mage strolling through the town one peaceful afternoon. She was one of maybe five or six others who were roaming the streets at this hour of midday. The Madgod noticed an absence of weaponry on her body. Instead, she held a book under her right arm. Unfamiliar with the language that the book was written in, the Madgod refrained from worrying himself with the content of the book. It wasn't titled, anyways. Therefore it was unimportant to him at the moment.
Much could be described by her appearance. She was unique for her own kind, which led the Madgod to wonder whether or not she was of a mixed ethnic background. She was a dark skinned Dark Elf with high cheek bones and a squared off jaw. Her features were sharp and her skin as smooth and clear as it could get. She looked the equivilent of a story book maiden from Morrowind. However, her hair was pulled back out of her face. The Madgod was thankful for this; for he had a better look at the gorgeous features that made up this woman's face. Her hair, however, was the main concern. As beautiful as it was... it was a red bright as blood. He had never seen a color quite like it before. He doubted whether or not this color was natural, and furthermore questioned how on Nirn it got to be that color in the first place. She carried herself in such a graceful way; such a graceful woman should not be tainted by such a harsh hair color. This, of course, was the Madgod's selfish opinion.
Often spoiled and brought whatever he wanted whenever he wished it- the Madgod was unable to see past even the smallest flaw with a person. These selfish thoughts led to selfish actions and almost always created an air of self doubt within the person judged. Leaders often judge their followers. While leaders have the right to size up those who wish to follow him, the followers will also size up their leader. Not one person can be considered "perfect" in the eyes of another.

The Madgod will soon learn values set down by his followers that strip him of judging others. Instead, he uses his own newfound comedy to create an air of discomfort if he's feeling the slightest doubt in someone. This, of course, is not his take immediately. Contrary to belief, the Madgod was just as serious as any other Daedric prince. It wasn't until he began to become actively involved with the life and activities of the residents of the Isles before he began to show his true silly intentions. Though it is also reflected through his writing that he always had silly intentions. Just a serious demeanor when placed upon the throne in his realm. Before this mysterious Dunmer entered his life, even his servant, Haskill, can recall in further documents that Lord Sheogorath only displayed a silly side when in the presence of somebody he didn't trust. This is a curiosity within itself. For there is one other person that he would trust just as much as Haskill; however he was hardly serious with her unless he was making a romantic gesture. Even then, she had trouble taking him seriously.

Little to her knowledge- the Madgod was sizing her up from the moment he laid eyes on her. He was convincing himself of reasons not to pursue this woman. Whether or not this was a result of his own self doubt or a strong sense of responsibility, no one could tell. The Madgod changed his mind every few minutes. And as she passed him by and entered the inn down the way, the Madgod collapsed against the pillar and slid to his knees. He had never felt so overwhelmed. Her mere presence evoked an emotion within him that he did not feel capable of feeling before. He could almost call it 'obligation'. He was just having a hard time coming up with a reason to feel 'obligated' to this woman at all. And while every bone in his human form was urging him with the utmost sincerety to strike up a small conversation with the girl in a further attempt to know her better; he declined his heart's desire and emerged from behind the pillar, on his feet. He hadn't the time for silly games such as this. Chasing women was an activity fit for mortals, not a God. The Lord Sheogorath had business to attend to. Now was not the time for silly courtships. Especially given the Madgod's history with women. In his mind he knew that she would end up just like the rest of them- stranded in the Isles until forced to relocate. The Madgod brushed off his clothing and started toward the gate of the city of Anvil. It was time for him to return home. He'd spent a good amount of his time wandering about when he could very well be at home dictating his people.

What a harsh word, 'dictate'. Though I would like to note that I have studied dictators before. I consider Lord Sheogorath (or now, Jyggalag) to be somewhat of a dictator or a tyrant. Certainly not a fair and just ruler. I could further explain, but I don't want my author's notes to ruin the story.

The Madgod began his way toward the gate, eager to exit and flee to his realm. The comfort of the Isles was drawing him in. He felt a negative sensation grip his body. Something was not right in the Isles. In fact, something was very, very wrong. He stood very still and composed himself. The Greymarch was not due to happen for another four hundred and eleven years. Certainly, there were not obelisks obstructing his homeland once more. He surely felt that this was not the case. And a rage began to envelop the Madgod as his mind wandered to thoughts of Heretics and Zealots; an internal threat. His lordship was highly against the idea of mutiny. Only because he was the only authority figure to be overthrown. Given, Crucible and Bliss' duke and duchess. Sheogorath wasn't too concerned with them, however, for he could not in his right mind imagine that a person would be irrational enough to overthrow a minor position and soon be overthrown by the Madgod himself; for Sheogorath had no time for silly things such as replacing the authority he already had established. Such a rare case, should Syl or Thadon be replaced. And certainly not anytime soon.
Upon thinking these thoughts the Madgod's mind was interrupted by an outside disturbance. He had stopped in the middle of the pathway that winded itself throughout the city, by the great trea that stood tall outside the two guilds. He had heard shouting. And not just mindless rabble, but a debate between a man and a woman. A mischievous grin grew on the Madgod's face as he progressed toward the scene. Surely he would tweak the scene to make it just a tad more interesting. That was what the Madgod was best at doing, of course. Destroying good intentions and building on an already messy situation was all good fun to his lordship. And while he had a prior agreement to the nine in regards to disturbing the daily life of those in Tamriel; he couldn't help himself. He felt that there would be no punishment. It was all in the name of good fun, and who would get hurt? Why, nobody! The Madgod had no desire to walk away from such a scene with a murder on his hands. The thought annoyed him.

The man and woman in question were none other than the Dunmer lady Sheogorath had encountered earlier behind the pillar. Only, her beautiful face had been warped with an angered expression. Sheogorath seized in a paranoid fear. She looked absolutely nothing like he'd remembered her. Perhaps it was because her face was scrunched tightly and angry. Perhaps it was because she was in a defensive stance. Either way; the Madgod was sure that this lass was nowhere near the definition of 'cute' when angry. She was a few feet away from the innkeeper, who had her leather-bound book tucked underneath one arm. Judging from her stance, she had every intention of getting the book back. Though it was certainly mind boggling to the Madgod as to how the man ended up with the book in the first place.
"You sorry wretch! You evil harlot! I banish thee! By the nine, stay away from my inn! Be gone! BE GONE!"
The Madgod was thoroughly impressed by the choice vocabulary spurting from the innkeeper's mouth. He was counting off the insults in his mind, observing the innkeeper's angry demeanor and inability to keep saliva from spewing from his mouth. The Madgod noticed the Dunmer girl's body language while taking her abuse. She took it rather well, avoiding any emotional or distressed facial expressions. She remained angry and was frozen in her defensive stance. The citizens of Anvil that surrounded the scene (or what few citizens were present at the time) were frozen in fear. Sheogorath observed this fear with the utmost interest. Not a single citizen blinked or moved an inch. They exchanged the occasional glance toward one another but that was it. This struck the Madgod as odd, considering his eagerness to view the argument in the first place. The innkeeper finished his insults and threw the book on the ground. It bounced off the cobblestone path and fell open. The Madgod couldn't see a single thing that was written, but it was certainly littered with notes and drawings of things beyond the Madgod's interests. Or perhaps even his own knowledge; something the Madgod would never admit. He watched as she scrambled to pick it up quickly and cradled it in her hands. "That's quite fine." She stated, brushing dust from the cover of the book. "Watch yourself, however. You are brave... so, so brave. I am all powerful. And you will feel my fury. You would make a fine experiment, though a stupid oafish one at that! If you so much as glance in my direction I will have you finished. I'll stay away from your silly inn. You keep away from the mere image of me. Don't even utter my name."

The Madgod began applause before the innkeeper had any chance to retort. Both the Dunmer and the innkeeper shot an annoyed glance in Sheogorath's direction as he clapped for an insanely long time. He was not afraid of these people. Her threats were empty threats as far as a Daedric prince was concerned... and the innkeeper was nothing short of a bumbling idiot. "My apologies!" Shouted the Madgod, still clapping, "Just simply admiring such an exchange of words! Do continue."
The innkeeper and the Dunmer waved the Madgod off and proceeded with staring at each other in the same angry way that they'd been staring at each other before. "You will be cast out of Cyrodil, Relmyna. Mark my words. Cast OUT!" Before Relmyna had a chance to retort a guard had rushed to the scene. He bound her hands immediately and handed the book to the innkeeper. The innkeeper blushed as he handled the tome, clearly not happy to have even been given the thing. Sheogorath watch in disappointment as Relmyna thrashed and kicked at the guards, demanding her book back. They ignored her cries and pleas and began pushing her in the direction of the castle. She was carried off by two guards and clearly handled as if she were a wanted criminal. Sheogorath highly doubted that she was anyone of ill intent; however, she was mysterious. Mysterious people tend to be the craziest. He knew from personal experience. His realm was the very foundation of crazy and not a single man, woman, or thing that resided in the Isles could be considered otherwise. Sheogorath stepped up to the innkeeper, who was still red in the face, hands trembling under the weight of the book, and snatched the book away. The innkeeper looked both grateful and annoyed as the Madgod claimed the book as his own. "I do hope you don't mind, good sir. I have the best of intentions."

With that said, the Madgod stalked off. Leaving the innkeeper in gratitude as such a weight was lifted from his shoulders. And as Relmyna was carried away, thrashing and kicking, Sheogorath took his seat on the steps of the Mage's guild and opened the book to its very first page. And upon scanning the pages... the Madgod was determined to make this woman a permanent resident of the Isles.

I realize I am a day late! My apologies. I broke my wrist after tripping over one of my cats _ Unfortunately, the wrist that was damaged happens the be located under the hand that I write with. Its a right bit easier to type with a broken wrist than it is to write. Anywho. As I said before, I am sorry and I'm also deeply sorry that the first chapter isn't necessarily as long as expected. I will certainly make up for it in the chapters to come.
Chapter two should be posted on March 5. So keep a look out! I'm hoping I'll have it done by an earlier time, so it'd do you good to visit frequently just to make sure.
Thank you for reading =) Please review and tell me what you think!